


Baby, You Got Lucky

by plumtrees



Series: Plum's Parting Porn-A-Thon [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aftercare, Choking, Come Swallowing, Deepthroating, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Dry Orgasm, M/M, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-13
Updated: 2017-07-13
Packaged: 2018-12-01 16:40:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11490438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plumtrees/pseuds/plumtrees
Summary: Sometimes. Sometimes Iwaizumi stops to think about the fact that he’s…like this. That he likes being used and being watched and being pushed to his knees and told he’s a slut. That he comes harder with more than one cock squeezing past his lips, more than one pair of hands on his body. That he doesn’t think he can be quite satisfied with just one cock for the rest of his life. He likes variety. He loves all sorts. Loves sucking them to hardness, feeling testicles move under his tongue until they tense and draw back into the skin, tight and ready to blow hot cum into his mouth. Over his face. His chest. He loves it even more when he finishes with one cock only to angle his head just a little and be greeted with another one, already bullying its way into his mouth.





	Baby, You Got Lucky

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to my lovely boyfriend for beta-ing this (more or less, lol) and for suggesting a title (and adding another song to my smut playlist~)
> 
> Prompt: Iwaizumi-centric (with Seijou OT4, Ushijima, UshiIwaOi): “insatiable cocksucking enthusiast finally getting their fill with various members of the team or several teams <3″

Sometimes, Iwaizumi stops and wonders exactly how he got himself into this situation.

 _This situation_ being, kneeling in the middle of a loose triangle formed by his three best friends, mouth open and tongue out as they slap their cocks over his lips.

Not that he doesn’t want to be here. Far from it. Oikawa calls him _insatiable_ but really, how is he expected to keep his hands to himself when these assholes do everything in their power to rile him up like this? Slapping his ass for every point scored, standing close enough so that Iwaizumi can feel the bulge of their erections through the practice shorts. Just earlier, Hanamaki had his hand dangerously high up his thigh, fingers subtly sneaking under the hem of his shorts and keeping them there while their coach explained what they did wrong. Matsukawa even joined in midway and tangled his fingers in the short hairs at the back of Iwaizumi’s head, stroking and tugging the way he does when Iwaizumi’s head is bobbing on his cock. Needless to say, Iwaizumi didn’t hear shit.

He hates them. Honestly. And he’d been so fucking ready to crown them with blue balls for the rest of the week but as soon as the team cleared out all three of them crowded him against the lockers, overly eager hands already sliding under his clothes, and Iwaizumi’s well-thought-out speech of righteous fury dissolves on his tongue only to leave behind a desperate, breathy _yes_.

He can’t say no. He can’t say no because he loves this too much and he loves them too much and god, it’s just all too good. And fuck _that’s_ what scares him so badly.

Sometimes. Sometimes he stops to think about the fact that he’s… _like this_. That he likes being used and being watched and being pushed to his knees and told he’s a slut. That he comes harder with more than one cock squeezing past his lips, more than one pair of hands on his body. That he doesn’t think he can be quite satisfied with just one cock for the rest of his life. He likes variety. He loves all sorts. Loves sucking them to hardness, feeling testicles move under his tongue until they tense and draw back into the skin, tight and ready to blow hot cum into his mouth. Over his face. His chest. He loves it even more when he finishes with one cock only to angle his head just a little and be greeted with another one, already bullying its way into his mouth.

He still feels confused. Honestly, he hates himself sometimes, wonders exactly how he became this fucked up, but all three of them look down at him like they’re so proud, like he’s a prized little thing and they tell him he’s _so good, so perfect, our little cocksucker_ , and suddenly the feeling goes away.

He dares to lean in close, nuzzles Oikawa’s cockhead and licks over the slit. He smells like sweat, musky and raw. He’s hot and hard on his tongue and he sinks further to mouth at the head, suckling lightly.

Oikawa chuckles, a deep and robust sound that shoots electricity up Iwaizumi’s spine.

“One cock isn’t good enough for you, right?”

He whimpers around Oikawa’s girth, attempting to mumble around words even though it’s useless with his mouth full like this. Predictably, Matsukawa groans, tangling his fingers in his hair the exact same way he did earlier, only rougher this time, merciless when he pushes him to take all of Oikawa down his throat.

There is a lot of things Iwaizumi hates his body for, but his lack of a gag reflex isn’t one of them. Oikawa’s the longest, and Iwaizumi easily takes him right at the root. Matsukawa grips his hair and forces him down until his forehead crashes against Oikawa’s abdomen, the tip back as far as it can possibly go. Matsukawa angles his head, pushing Oikawa’s shaft up against the roof of his mouth, his throat, and keeping it there until his shoulders shake, body clenching tight in warning.

His eyes start to burn. Leak. He tries to adjust but then Matsukawa moves against him, triggering another nerve that tears an ugly, choking sound from him. He whines. Lifts both hands from the floor—

And Matsukawa pulls him back, the painful vise turning into a gentle cradle, holding him as he takes breath after breath, coughing wetly in between. His vision is spinning, but he can feel lips on his jaw, his neck, sees a flash of pink hair somewhere to his left before a hand comes, soothing and soft on his thigh.

“You good?”

He nods earnestly, clearing his throat to a chorus of amused chuckles.

“Look at you.” Matsukawa croons, hot breath blowing over his face as he licks his cheek, catching a tear. “So fucking sexy.”

They used to be so gentle with him, fluttering around him like butterflies but now they push and pull and whisper the dirtiest things in his ear while they do it and it only makes Iwaizumi go haywire. For once, he’s thankful that they made him keep his boxers. They don’t get to see how his cock twitches with every dirty word, with every way they make it hurt.

“Position.” Hanamaki hisses, somewhere above him. Iwaizumi sits up, goes right back to kneeling, knees spread, hands between his legs, flat on the floor.

It had been tricky, trying to figure out a stop signal when safewords aren’t an option. This had been Hanamaki’s idea. The position kept Iwaizumi submissive, the rule to keep his hands on the floor like the illusion of bondage, and it tickled all sorts of dynamics that all of them didn’t even know they were into. It was perfect, and they’d been using it ever since.

Iwaizumi recalls back when he had to grab one of them to get his point across, nails scratching in panic, but now his hands barely even come up a few inches off the floor before they’re scrambling to check on him, showering him with soft words and kisses. It makes affection swell in his chest, big enough that it overtakes the discomfort of breathing, for a moment, and he surges up to kiss each of them, all on the lips, just one more time.

The glow of fondness in their eyes makes his heart soar, wakes tingles on the soles of his feet. Oikawa reaches over to stroke his cheek with his knuckles. “Anytime you’re ready to go,” he says, and Iwaizumi smiles, knows this is all his to continue or end. Whatever he wants.

He’s in just as much control as they are, if not more. And that comforts him more than anything.

Iwaizumi nods, plants his hands flatter on the floor to reassure them.

He opens his mouth and lolls out his tongue as Oikawa lines himself up again, slides his way down his throat slowly at first, letting him readjust, feeling the clench of his throat around the crown and waiting for the subtle little nod that Iwaizumi gives before bucking his hips once.

“Shit.” Iwaizumi hears distantly, in the deep timbre of Matsukawa’s voice, just before Oikawa starts fucking his mouth for real, hips gyrating to keep a smooth rhythm. There’s a hand on Iwaizumi’s nape and he lets it hold him in place, keeping his mouth soft and tight for Oikawa, savoring the weight and friction of his cock as it shoves its way in.

Oikawa leaks like a faucet when he’s turned on. Iwaizumi can already taste, already feel the precum collecting on his tongue, leaking down his throat, dripping from the corners of his mouth with every steady thrust. He tastes salty-sweet and it’s appealing enough that Iwaizumi doesn’t mind, and he swallows obligingly whenever Oikawa drives deep, eyes rolling upwards to watch his face crumple, to watch his chest heave just so.

“Fuck, Iwa-chan, your mouth was made for this.” Oikawa hisses, jerks his hips sharply in petty revenge. “Not gonna last long if you keep doing that.”

 _That’s the point._ Iwaizumi thinks, smirking around the shaft in his mouth, sucking harder, bobbing his head as Oikawa’s hips twitch and stutter. He’s done this enough times to know the little subtleties that signaled their orgasm and Iwaizumi closes his eyes. Just in time for Oikawa to moan his name, push him off, cock twitching and smacking over his nose, his lips, before wet heat spills over his cheek, dribbling to his chin in a deliciously hot mess. Matsukawa grabs him by the hair again, pulls him back so he’s looking at the ceiling, and he whines, helpless, as Matsukawa slides his fingers through the cum, collecting the thick white on the sides of his fingers and sliding it into Iwaizumi's waiting mouth.

Another, smaller hand cups his face, and he opens his eyes, locks on to Hanamaki’s gaze as he sucks Matsukawa’s fingers. Hanamaki tilts his head up, thumb slipping into his mouth for him to suck, also wet with Oikawa’s cum.

He hears the click and whirr of a camera shutter, hinting at what Oikawa’s busying himself with. Iwaizumi shivers, but puts on a show for him, eyes rolling open as he moans around Matsukawa’s and Hanamaki’s fingers, nodding at their soft whispers of _You like that? You want more don’t you? Mean Oikawa didn’t even give you nearly enough, did he—_

“Hey.” Oikawa snaps, phone held loose in one hand as he pouts. “As if any of you can do any better.”

Hanamaki barks a laugh, takes his thumb out of Iwaizumi’s mouth and curling the hand over his reddened cock.

“Watch and learn, kiddo.” Hanamaki drawls, his boyish grin wide over his face. Matsukawa’s grip loosens, disappears completely, and Iwaizumi shuffles close to Hanamaki, keeping his hands on the floor, even with how hungry he is to touch.

Hanamaki kneels first, kisses him soft and slow. Hanamaki always kisses the best, the strokes of his tongue like a wash of heat, pulling a low whine from Iwaizumi’s throat. Iwaizumi likes pain, likes roughness and dirty, raunchy sex, but he also likes this: the gentleness and the soft exchange of kisses, the skittering of sparks in his chest that sort of feels like love.

Hanamaki likes to take his time with him, cleaning the remnants of the mess Oikawa left behind with his tongue, mouthing over his jaw and his neck, and Iwaizumi responds in kind, his mouth moving over him just as enthusiastically until he finally stands, hand over Iwaizumi’s nape to guide him onto his crotch.

Iwaizumi kisses the bare skin of his groin, the junction where thigh meets hip. Hanamaki has always been anal about his hygiene, always keeps himself hairless and uses special cleansers and lotions so he always smells good, even after practice. They’ve always grilled him for his extensive bath routine but Iwaizumi _loves_ the rewards he reaps from it. Loves how he can just lick and suck and worship his cock and balls and every bit of sensitive skin around it without worrying about spitting hairs for hours after. Loves how each sniff is accompanied by the sweetness of cherry blossoms. Loves how soft his skin is down here, how smooth.

He tongues a testicle into his mouth, sucks and draws off with a pop. Licks his way up and traces the shape of his lips with Hanamaki’s tip, smearing precum over his lips like it’s gloss and slips his lips over the head. His cockhead is smaller than most, but his thickness is no joke. He opens his mouth wider for him and drags it over the insides of his cheek, sucks rhythmically, twisting his head as he bobs, sucking noisily. He usually keeps his lips over his teeth but with Hanamaki he occasionally lets the blunt scrape of his teeth drag over the foreskin, thrilling at how Hanamaki’s fingers tighten in his hair, groaning, cock twitching in his mouth.

“You fucking masochist.” Oikawa teases. Hanamaki doesn’t reply. Not one Iwaizumi can hear at least, and he drags his attention back with a firm tongue at the underside of his cock, maintaining the pressure as he lifts up and off, then sinks back again. The unintentional ruts of Hanamaki’s hips push Iwaizumi further on his cock, his breaths shallow and hard, fingers clenching in his hair.

“Iwaizumi.” Hanamaki laughs breathily, head falling back as Iwaizumi hollows his cheeks. “God fucking damn it how are you even real?”

Iwaizumi rewards him with a sudden swallow, the contraction of his throat milking Hanamaki’s cock, his breath catching with an almost ridiculous-sounding gasp as he scrabbles for purchase on Iwaizumi’s head.

He doesn’t stop, bounces his head on Hanamaki’s cock and syncs each swallow for when Hanamaki’s tip is trapped in the back of his throat. He wants to reach between Hanamaki’s legs to fondle his balls, roll them between his fingers, coax him to blow his load in his mouth.

But he keeps his hands on the floor, moans around Hanamaki’s girth instead, making sure to be loud enough that he can feel it. He hears the approach of another set of feet and he looks up, opens his eyes to see Matsukawa pressed against Hanamaki’s side, one hand squeezing Hanamaki’s nipple while the other is out of sight. Suddenly, he hears a sharp _smack_ , and Hanamaki’s hips flinch in response, thrusting into Iwaizumi’s and spilling his orgasm with a choked-off cry, hips stuttering like he’s trying to wring himself dry in the suction of Iwaizumi’s mouth.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. Fucking _hell_ ,” he snarls. Probably doesn’t even realize he’s talking, hands clenched over Iwaizumi’s head, forcing him to take every single drop, and he does, swallowing enthusiastically.

He gasps in a breath when Hanamaki finally lets him go, a string of saliva and cum connecting his lips to the gleaming cock that’s just beginning to soften. For kicks, he chases it to give the head one last kiss, chuckling when Hanamaki honest to god _squeaks_ and smacks him as payback.

A huff comes from the general direction of the bench. “How was that fair? You came right in his mouth.”

“He needed at least three swallows to take it all, Oikawa. Not like that pathetic sprinkling you gave him earlier.”

“Oh fuck you.”

“Maybe tomorrow.”

“Hey,” Matsukawa cuts off, fingers snapping in warning. “I’d like to have my turn now, if you don’t mind?”

Iwaizumi blinks, wondering why he has to tell them off for chatting when he’s hand no problem with it before, but then Oikawa and Hanamaki quickly vacate the bench, and when Matsukawa sits, legs spread, face expectant, Iwaizumi finally realizes what it is he wants.

Matsukawa beams like the devil himself, leaning back like he has nothing better to do than to wait for Iwaizumi to get his mouth on him. Iwaizumi knows why he likes this position, sitting pretty with Iwaizumi’s head cradled in the V of his thighs. His dick curves upward prominently, and when he’s seated it’s harder for Iwaizumi to deepthroat without it hurting, without the tip bumping into the roof of his mouth and making it harder to get him to slide down his throat.

Iwaizumi’s already hard and painful in his constricting boxers, but what Matsukawa has planned for him gets him leaking. Gets saliva spreading over his tongue like he’s some thirsty slut and he quickly waddles over to kneel between his legs, close enough until his nose brushes the erection standing proudly.

He’s the only cut one out of all of them, the skin beneath his head slightly rough from the scars. He licks his way up the thick veins bulging from his cock, feeling them move with his tongue, pulsing in time with the heartbeat thrumming in his ears.

The hand comes behind his head again, detouring over his ear in a false pretense of tenderness, stroking the lobe, tucking some loose strands back before sinking into his hair, fingers slipping and gripping, twisting around playfully before clenching into a fist and pulling Iwaizumi’s head back sharply.

“Open your mouth.”

He does. Sticks out his tongue for good measure and prepares his jaw at the follow-up command of _keep it open_. He’s only given a single breath before Matsukawa starts to thrust his cock past his lips, the tip dragging across the roof of his mouth. He keeps his tongue where it is, doesn’t move other than what Matsukawa allows him to do. If Matsukawa only wants a hole, then that’s what he’s going to get.

Matsukawa moves his head down and locks him there with his thighs, keeps him there for a good few seconds before pinching his nose shut. And even though it doesn’t hurt, not really, he makes tiny, keening sounds, choking and pretending to cry, because he knows it’s what gets Matsukawa off.

He lets him go, lets him pull back with a gasp only to slap him, just hard enough to sting. Matsukawa is rough, and Iwaizumi lives for it. He smirks at him, eyes bright in challenge and Matsukawa smirks right back, grabs the back of his head and shoves him, pushing, pushing until Iwaizumi is comfortably snug between his legs, lips sealed over the base of his cock.

“How you doing, honey?” Matsukawa asks, deceptively sweet. Iwaizumi smiles as best as he can with the thickness lodged in his mouth. He opens his eyes wide, blinks so that Matsukawa can see his lashes flutter, and sucks long and hard when he feels Matsukawa pulling him, coming off with a disgustingly wet _pop_.

“Always so hungry for dick. You’d take anything you can get, won’t you?” Matsukawa purrs and Iwaizumi loves the deep, almost threatening timbre to his voice, especially when his words are said over his skin like this, against the edge of his jaw, just a hair’s breadth away from a kiss.

One of Matsukawa’s hands is dragging over the front of his torso, palm flat and large as it travels right between his legs. He whimpers, averts his gaze when he cups his cock under the garter of his boxers, restrained and left unsatisfied even after all they’ve done. After being denied for so long, the touch of Matsukawa’s hand almost burns, but he’s not allowed to come until they all have. He knows that, and Matsukawa just loves to use every chance to remind him.

He fondles his balls, gives his cock one solid stroke before sitting back, opening his legs wider in invitation and watching as Iwaizumi leans in to take his cock again, starting off with gentle kisses around his shaft, searching for the heat of his skin under the cooled spit.

Matsukawa lets him do as he likes, until he got the tip back into his mouth, and suddenly his hand is back on his head, guiding him down and _keeping_ him down, the spasming of his throat and the hollowing of his cheeks serving as stimulus to his cock. Matsukawa angles his head just so, the tip rubbing harder against his palate, the curve weighing heavier on his tongue. His vision is blurring but he still keeps his gaze on Matsukawa, his lips to the base where the hair grows short and sparse, groaning and whining all the while, speaking desperation-laced words that don’t make sense.

Unlike everyone else, Matsukawa is quiet when he comes, but his orgasm snaps over his body with the force of a gunshot, his body bowing over as he shakes, pulling on Iwaizumi’s hair. The first spurt hits the back of his throat, and he manages to pull off so that the rest can stripe over his lips, tongue, and he moans as he takes it all in while Matsukawa pants weakly overhead, the last pulses of his orgasm petering out to little aftershocks.

Iwaizumi swallows, mutters a soft _thank you_ that gets Matsukawa smiling, carding his fingers through his throbbing scalp while Iwaizumi’s tongue laves in circles over his lips, catching the cum that didn’t make it to his mouth. He’s still trying to steady his pulse when a hand reaches into his boxers, fist curling loosely over his cock.

There’s a mouth on his neck, nibbling his pulse point, sucking a bruise there for all to see, and it doesn’t take very long, maybe a few quick pumps before he’s spilling all over those strong fingers, body jacking when it squeezes, pumps him a few more times using his own cum to ease the friction. His head drops on Matsukawa’s thigh, whining pathetically because it _hurts_ but he doesn’t want them to stop, and it’s when his body convulses through another orgasm that the hand finally falls away.

For a while, he doesn’t know where he is, locked in the haze of post-coital bliss, but vaguely he feels kisses on his face, hands gently moving him until he’s cradled against a strong torso. He instinctively inches close to the heat, murmuring nonsense and kissing skin. It smells like Oikawa. He coos happily, his own mouth moving with words he can’t hear. A laugh blows over the skin of his cheek, before a kiss is pressed there. He hears a reproachful _Iwa-chan_ and nothing else.

He aches with the satisfaction of a good fuck, his throat stinging and sensitive but his heart plump and warm with contentment. Oikawa’s arms feel good around him, holding him around the waist, hand on his nape, massaging just the way he likes. He can fall asleep like this. He’s done so so many times already, and every single time they take care of him so well.

He doesn’t today. Instead, he opens his eyes, looks past Oikawa’s shoulder to meet the olive-green pair just past the slip of the door. The eyes widen, just a split-second before they disappear, so quickly and quietly that if Iwaizumi didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought it was just his orgasm-addled imagination.

“I need to stretch my legs. I’m gonna go get a drink.”

Hanamaki hums, cheek pausing from where it was nuzzling against his hair. Oikawa doesn’t let go though. “Matsukawa’s already getting you something to—”

“No,” Iwaizumi says, in that tone that always gets them scrambling to do his bidding. “ _I’m gonna go get a drink._ ”

 

-

 

“I’m not going to say anything.” is the first thing out of Ushijima’s mouth when Iwaizumi enters the changing room they’d set aside for Shiratorizawa to use. There’s no one else there. “Though I advise that next time you partake in illicit activities, you should lock the door.”

Iwaizumi smirks, not one Ushijima can see, as determined as he seems to keep his back to him, tense as if he’s bracing for an attack. “I’m not here to ask any favors. I’m here to ask why you were watching.”

Iwaizumi knows Ushijima didn’t just _see_. Iwaizumi noticed the flash of the knob opening. Saw it pull back just enough for someone to get a glimpse of the trashy locker room porno happening inside. Saw all that happening while all three of his boys were busy getting him naked.

Ushijima watched him fall apart between three men. Watched him act like a top-class whore while he choked and sucked on anything they shoved in his mouth. Watched him cum dry for the finale and how they cooed and coddled him after. Fuck, Iwaizumi should be charging his ass for this.

“I agree that was my mistake.” Ushijima replies, still refusing to look at him. “I was…intrigued.”

Ah. One of the rare times Iwaizumi appreciates Ushijima’s brutal honesty.

“What? Never seen a guy suck another guy’s dick before? Or three?”

The confidence that the experience lent him still hasn’t burned out. He still feels powerful, in control, still feels like he can command men just by lifting his hands off the tiles.

He steps close. Closer. Makes sure his footsteps echo across the room until he stops at the bench where Ushijima sits, shoulders hunched, flinching a little when Iwaizumi leans in close.

“Did you touch yourself Ushiwaka?” Iwaizumi whispers, blowing over the shell of his ear. “Were you jerking off behind that door?”

His hands lightly glide up his back, digging his fingertips in a calming path along the prominent dip of his spine, his shoulders, until he slowly loosens up. His breaths come in deeper, more slowly, and Iwaizumi likes to think that maybe he’s not as dense as he appears.

“Ever wonder how it feels, Ushiwaka?” he continues, voice pitching lower, rougher, hands like spiders as they dare to trail around his neck, thumbs kneading the pressure points where his shoulders meet. “You’ve never had your dick sucked, haven’t you?”

A groan resounds from his throat, Iwaizumi feeling the vibrations of it just under his fingers. He clicks his tongue in disappointment.

“That’s such a fucking shame. A dick like yours?”

He’s not even going to lie to himself. Isn’t even gonna pretend that he hasn’t jerked himself off to the memory of the silhouette of Ushijima’s cock through his volleyball shorts, wondering all the while how it would feel, taste, how big it would be when fully hard. Would he be rough? Would he be gentle?

He reaches down, spurred on by Ushijima’s complete lack of protest, feels the fat bulge through the fabric and bites his lip, squeezing the generous weight of him in his hand. God.

“You’re probably the biggest I’ve had so far.” Or…about to have, if Iwaizumi plays his cards right.

“And you’ve had plenty, haven’t you?” Ushijima says, and the shock of it stops Iwaizumi in his tracks, gets him blinking incredulously. His voice is deep. Has always had this deep and rumbly quality to it that sometimes got Iwaizumi strangely hot under the collar, but now there’s an undertone to it that gets him shivering with want.

“Just three.”

“At the same time.” Ushijima snaps back, and here his hand closes around Iwaizumi’s wrist, keeping him there as he tilts his head to look at him. “I believe that’s more than most people, Iwaizumi.”

It’s disconcerting, how his eyes look almost like Oikawa’s like this: blazing and pupils blown wide, staring at him like he’s trying to burrow through his soul. Their faces are close enough that Iwaizumi can feel Ushijima’s every breath puffing on his lips. Just a little more and—

“Maybe once you get a taste of this you’ll know why.”

Iwaizumi feels the laugh more than he hears it, but he has no time to process any of it because the next second he’s suddenly on Ushijima’s lap, lips smashed against his, mouth forced open by his tongue. Ushijima’s hands are big. Bigger than Oikawa’s, and they’re warm and firm on his back, waist, caging him into the kiss.

Ushijima’s tongue moves expertly against his limp one, coaxing it out of his mouth to dance in the open air, dragging and tangling, lips sliding over the flexible muscle. He has experience with kissing already, that’s for sure, and the knowledge brings with it a burning curiosity, but Iwaizumi tamps it down. It doesn’t—shouldn’t—matter.

They separate with a wet gasp, but Ushijima doesn’t let him go. He looks hungry, eyes zeroed in on his lips, hands moving all over his body, fingers slipping beneath garters and fabric. Iwaizumi smirks. Just how riled up did his show earlier get him?

Iwaizumi doesn’t waste any time, getting on his knees between Ushijima’s legs, shameless as he shuffles close, hooking fingers in Ushijima’s shorts. “Take that off.” he says, and Ushijima complies immediately, efficiently tugging it off, letting the clothes pool over his ankles.

God, Iwaizumi can’t exactly decide if his fantasies gave Ushijima’s size justice or not, when it’s right there hanging in front of him. He’s big, but even so he’s completely proportional. Not that that means anything considering he has tree-trunk thighs. Still.

Iwaizumi experimentally fists Ushijima’s cock, swallows when he realizes it just barely closes around it. He squeezes a bit, pulls the skin back to expose the head and give it a few pumps, smirking when Ushijima’s breath picks up above him. He works his jaw to get it ready, open his mouth, finally leans in.

His cockhead alone is big, smooth and spongy where the flat of Iwaizumi’s tongue presses against it. There’s bitterness where precum leaked through, and Iwaizumi guides it into his mouth and Iwaizumi has to stick his tongue out a little more so he can give it more space. He’s so big and Iwaizumi almost reels when he finally gets it past his throat, feeling how it pushes against his walls.

He lifts up to breathe, cough once and wince only to regret it later, because Ushijima’s looking at him like he doesn’t think he can do it and it only makes Iwaizumi want to prove him wrong.

“You’re going to ruin other dicks for me forever.” he jokes, if only to give himself more time to stretch his jaw.

“I’m…sorry?”

“For what? Having a monster cock?” Iwaizumi huffs, staring down Ushijima’s dick like it’s a challenger to his long-held arm-wrestling champion title. “Don’t be.”

He dives right in, making sure to be careful with his teeth as he goes. He’s not entirely sure if Ushijima likes pain, how he likes his lovers in general, but what better time to find out than the present?

He sucks slowly, mapping out the feel of Ushijima’s cock in his mouth, lids fluttering shut to maximize the sensations. He smells clean. Just plain soap and skin under the familiar musk of sweat and heat. His free hand cups Ushijima’s balls, nudging them with his fingertips, gripping them against the heel of his palm and rolling them around when Ushijima groans, throaty and sexy. God, he’d always known that voice would sound amazing in this context. Always feels great to be proven right.

“Really, Iwa-chan? I leave you alone for ten minutes…”

Iwaizumi gags for real, mostly in shock and from the sudden jerk of Ushijima’s hips at the sound of the voice. He pulls off quickly, scrambling back, whatever measly breath being chased out of his lungs at the sight of Oikawa at the door looking _furious_ , eyes bright, the scariest Iwaizumi has ever seen him. Just how long he’s been standing there?

“How hungry are you for cock that you go fraternizing with the enemy?” he growls, stalking across the room and crossing the distance before Iwaizumi can even say anything, hand shooting out to grip the short hairs on his crown, pulling hard enough to rip a yelp out of him. Ushijima’s suddenly intervening with a hand on Oikawa’s wrist, a threatening bark of his name.

Iwaizumi can’t really see what’s happening, can barely see at all through the blur of tears but the two of them aren’t even talking. Oikawa’s hand is still tight in his hair and they’re just glaring at each other, the tension building until Iwaizumi can feel it weighing over him like a shroud.

”Iwa-chan.” Oikawa drawls, still cold, still commanding. “Position?”

Iwaizumi waits for his breathing to steady, hands shakily flattening on the floor. Oikawa slaps away Ushijima’s hand on his wrist, kneels beside Iwaizumi, looking at him with a brand of disappointment and irritation one would save for a misbehaving pet. Iwaizumi, despite himself, wants to laugh at how accurate that metaphor is.

“You’re so greedy, Iwa-chan. Aren’t we enough for you?” Oikawa’s breath burns hot on his ear. Iwaizumi whines, shakes his head as much as Oikawa’s grip will allow.

“Don’t fucking _lie_ to me.”

Oikawa tugs his hair back hard enough for his head to tilt sharply, his back instinctively arching to ease the pressure. He gasps at the pain but he keeps his hands on the floor. Ushijima is still tense, still looking apprehensive and confused, but seems to be catching on. He’s dense, but he’s a smart man, able to read movements and predict what they’re for, on the court. Iwaizumi thinks it wont be hard for him to apply that skill to this situation. His eyes had already wandered to Iwaizumi’s hands, eyes darting about as his mind whirrs and scenarios click into place.

After a few nervous beats, Ushijima sits, slowly, and watches.

Oikawa lets out a breath that almost sounds relieved, but then his face hardens just as quickly when he shifts his gaze back to Iwaizumi.

“I don’t blame you though. He’s big.” Oikawa strokes through his hair, mockingly gentle. Oikawa pulls and he moves with him, lets Oikawa guide him on Ushijima’s cock, pushing past his lips, the back of his tongue, the soft give of his tonsils. Lets him shallowly bob his head over Ushijima’s cock, over and over until he’s fully hard again, properly leaking precum onto his tongue.

“You like that, don’t you, Iwa-chan? Like it when it’s big enough that you gotta work for it. Like it when it’s big enough to make you _choke_.”

Oikawa sharply jerks him down, _down_ until his nose is pressed tight against Ushijima’s crotch, lips buried in the forest of dark hair at the apex of his legs, chin to his balls. He can’t breathe like this, but instead of seizing up in fear, his whole body sings with excitement, tightening reflexively at the lack of oxygen. His throat spasms with the threat of rising bile, his face and fingertips going numb. He can feel his eyes rolling back. Every pulsing nerve screams at him to raise his hands, but he fights it with every fiber of his being. No. He can do this. He can—

Oikawa pulls him back and he gasps wretchedly, almost sobbing with every gulp of air that rushes down his lungs. Ushijima’s cock rests just shy of his swollen lips and Ushijima’s looking at him with some concern, hands twitching on his knees. He’d been trying to keep still, Iwaizumi knows. Had been fighting to not hurt Iwaizumi more that Oikawa was already. It’s sweet. Really. But it’s not what Iwaizumi wants.

“He can take it.” Oikawa goads, his smug tone a dark mask for reassurance, lips dragging over the side of Iwaizumi’s face, tongue darting out to lick an errant tear. “You’d be surprised at what he can do. What’s hiding behind that face.” His thumb comes up to swipe over some drool at the corner of his mouth, tutting in disapproval. “He’s a nasty little shit and he knows it.”

Oikawa shoves him again, and he’s more prepared this time but that doesn’t make it any easier. Ushijima breaches him fully, his aching throat making way for his cock as it plunges in, stays there. He squeaks when a sharp nail flicks his nipple, Ushijima groaning and bucking in response, as if he can get any deeper. Oikawa brings his free hand to his neck too, pressing on his throat, the distention where Ushijima’s cock ends.

“I can feel you Ushiwaka. You’re filling his throat so well. Think you can fuck him ‘til he’s unconscious? Make him pass out on your cock like this?”

Iwaizumi whimpers, what he hopes can come off as a _yes_ , pathetically drooling around Ushijima’s cock. He tries to look up, squints past the tears and his quickly blurring eyesight to find Ushijima with his mouth slightly open, cheeks rosy. He still looks like himself but his eyes are bright with lust. Desire.

Iwaizumi feels it then. The conscious, responding stutter of Ushijima’s hips. Nervous and tentative, but then the next one comes surer, then another. And when Iwaizumi obediently takes it all in, relaxes his throat in time with each push, Ushijima starts thrusting more recklessly, starts chasing after his own pleasure without any care and Iwaizumi _moans_.

“You’re so wet here, babe.” Oikawa murmurs, one hand slipping between Iwaizumi’s legs, squeezes hard enough for Iwaizumi to cry out, the vibrations causing Ushijima to groan, head snapping back. “Ready to blow? I think Ushiwaka is too. What do you think, Iwa-chan? Can you come with just Ushijima’s cock in your mouth?”

He nods, as best as he can with Oikawa holding him, when he’s bouncing on Ushijima’s cock like this. He tries to suck, hollows his cheeks even though it’s futile. It almost feels like Ushijima is taking up all the space in his mouth. He can’t even move his tongue.

Oikawa finally lets him go, and Iwaizumi hurries to swallow around the saliva and precum that collected over his tongue. Under it. “On my face.” he wheezes, the hot, slick weight of Ushijima’s cock slapping over his cheeks, Oikawa holding it tight at the base. “On my face.” he repeats breathlessly, dying off into a mewl, tilting his head just right as Oikawa starts to pump Ushijima’s throbbing length, closing his eyes to the sounds of Ushijima’s aborted grunts, wanting these sounds immortalized in his brain for future use.

Ushijima blows his load all over his face, some even catching on his hair, most of it dribbling in a hot, thick stream, leaving him moaning, low and needy when it slows to a trickle. He almost wants Oikawa to take a photo. Wants to commemorate this somehow, because he doesn’t think the memory will do for when the ache in his throat fades, for when he’s washed off the sticky mess Ushijima left on him.

“God, Iwa-chan. Look at you.” Oikawa breathes. Partly in adoration, but still with the underlying intent to humiliate and degrade. Iwaizumi knows. He’s a mess. He doesn’t care. Not right now.

Oikawa brushes his fingers delicately over the backs of his hands, still splayed on the floor, still perfectly immobile. He turns his head a little, makes a beseeching little whine and Oikawa shows him mercy for once when he meets him in a kiss. Brief and chaste, but it quenches Iwaizumi until Oikawa finally gets his hand around his cock, cupping loosely over the head and rolling his wrist to tease him. He whimpers, bucks his hips to chase the friction of Oikawa’s calloused palms, shrieks when he suddenly lands a slap right on his balls, another on his cock, laughing cruelly as in swings with the momentum of it. God, he’s so fucking _close_ why does Oikawa have to be such an asshole—

But suddenly, Ushijima’s head is dipping between his legs, licking the head, just a little swipe that Iwaizumi barely even feels, but the sight of it gets him reeling. Ushijima tries again, more firmly this time, and his tongue even dips in beneath his foreskin, moving in a slow, sinful circle and it’s then that Iwaizumi cries out, hips kicking, coming stripes of pure white that coat Ushijima’s tongue.

Iwaizumi isn’t sure if he imagines it, if it’s a by-product of how fucking bomb that orgasm was, but he thinks he catches Ushijima’s eye, thinks they hold each other’s gaze in that moment Ushijima closes his mouth and swallows. Slowly. And god, it’s the hottest thing Iwaizumi’s ever seen.

He’d just barely caught his breath when Ushijima sits back, awkwardly shuffling back into his boxers, shorts. Oikawa still hasn’t said anything, but Iwaizumi can practically hear his gears turning, eyes darting here and there the way they do when he’s analyzing a match.

“I’d like to help.” Ushijima finally says, after he’d gotten his clothes back on. “You’re supposed to do…some things after, right?”

“It’s called aftercare Ushiwaka.” Oikawa scoffs. “And if you really want to, go ahead. Pretty sure you saw how it’s done, earlier?”

Ushijima doesn’t react to the jab, only stands there looking vaguely lost. There’s silence for a while as he looks at Iwaizumi like he’s trying to solve a puzzle. Iwaizumi only blinks back.

“You did well.”

Oikawa snorts incredulously from above them but Iwaizumi honestly didn’t expect much to begin with. The effort’s cute anyway.

“Thanks.” Iwaizumi croaks, trying to crack a smile up at him, but it doesn’t seem to satisfy him. Instead, he turns to Oikawa, who predictably heaves a long-suffering sigh. before standing, supporting Iwaizumi onto the bench.

“Well, it’s been fun, but Iwa-chan still needs to shower.” Oikawa says, flippant as ever. Iwaizumi rolls his eyes. Ushijima eyes them still, brows furrowing.

“Do you need help?”

Oikawa shakes his head, waves his hands in a gesture probably meant to shoo Ushijima away, but Iwaizumi slaps them reproachfully, glaring at his wounded expression. If Ushijima even noticed the exchange, he doesn’t acknowledge it.

Iwaizumi watches Ushijima for a moment, sees his mind working around something he can’t quite read, but before Iwaizumi can say anything, Ushijima is already reaching out to grab his bag from under the bench, standing on shaky legs. Iwaizumi can’t help but feel a surge of satisfaction at that.

”I’ll go ahead then.” he says, then turns for the door.

Iwaizumi’s never been one for sentiment, but something about letting him leave without a last word seems…wrong, somehow. He watches Ushijima’s retreating back for a moment, words flashing through his mind in a blind panic.

“See you in our next practice match.”

Oikawa makes a huffy noise behind him but he ignores it in favor of watching the emotions shift all over Ushijima’s face.

Finally, he smiles. Soft and barely-there, but a smile nonetheless, and waves them goodbye before leaving the room.

 

-

 

“Hey.” Iwaizumi starts, much, much later, when they’re about six blocks away from home. “Are you really mad that I did that with Ushiwaka?”

“No.” Oikawa answers, in the way he does where he clearly means _yes_.

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, coughs a bit to clear his throat. Talking is always shit after sucking cock, but before he can say anymore, Oikawa stops, stares at the pavement with a thoughtful expression as his lips thin out, one corner digging into his face in a frown.

“I know I’m not—We’re not—It would’ve been _nice_ to know is all. That could’ve ended badly y’know. And we would’ve had no idea.”

Iwaizumi blinks. Oikawa looks at him apprehensively. There’s probably already an apology waiting on his tongue, ready to take it back or brush it off as a joke, but Iwaizumi shakes his head, keeps his head low in a pseudo-bow.

“Sorry. You’re right, I’m sorry. It just…it was Ushiwaka, so I really had a feeling he wouldn’t tell anyway. I just wanted to know why he stayed.”

“And suck his dick in the process?”

Iwaizumi smiles wryly. “That was just a bonus. And it was a very good dick to suck, thank you very much.”

The memory of the sheer stretch his mouth had to endure just to accommodate Ushijima still makes him shiver. He’ll be jerking off to the memory of it for days to come. Hm, maybe he should buy himself a bigger dildo to help him along.

They continue walking in silence for a few more blocks, the atmosphere lighter, though every now and then Iwaizumi still catches Oikawa’s mouth open, then snap shut, head angling just that little bit to look at him. He pretends not to notice. He’s long since learned he’ll never get anywhere unless Oikawa is ready to talk, so he waits.

“Iwa-chan.” Ah, there we go. “There’s something I need to know.”

Iwaizumi looks at him, humming in curiosity as Oikawa chews on his lip, seemingly convincing himself to ask the question. With how bothered he looks, he’d probably been thinking about this since before they left school.

Finally, he turns his entire body towards Iwaizumi, grabs his hands and pulls them up between them, opens his mouth,

“Is his dick better than ours?!”

 

-

 

(Iwaizumi leaves him hunched over in the middle of the street, wailing about _Iwa-chan is a bully_. Iwaizumi rubs his head over his throbbing forehead and laments, for the nth time in his life, why he still bothers with this idiot.)

**Author's Note:**

> this was edited while Greedy by Ariana Grande playing in the bg so yeah have some thirsty Iwa-chan (I want him in a latex bunny costume now)


End file.
